


cool kids belong together

by ozmissage



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dom/sub, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozmissage/pseuds/ozmissage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> This was supposed to be a strategy meeting.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	cool kids belong together

Twelve.

That’s the number of times Damon has touched Alaric in the past twenty minutes. Briefly, he entertains the idea that it might be considered a little OCD to keep count. But then Damon leans across Alaric on the pretense of grabbing a bottle of ketchup and takes special care to make sure their thighs press together beneath the bar in the process and Alaric decides that keeping count is a very rational, very practical thing to do. Damon smirks to himself as he tips the glass bottle upside down and drenches his already soggy, inedible fries in ketchup.

This was supposed to be a strategy meeting. Alaric had come prepared to share the impressive number of ways he had learned how to kill a vampire so Damon would be ready for Klaus when he showed up on their doorstep. But so far they had discussed Springsteen vs. Dylan, got into an argument over Springsteen vs. Dylan, drank two and a half pitchers of beer, bemoaned their rotten luck with vampire women, and ordered two plates of food that they ignored in favor of more beer before cycling back to the Springsteen/Dylan debate.

And in between all that, Damon has somehow managed to inappropriately touch Alaric thirteen times. The first couple of times were innocent things---a tap on Alaric’s arm to get his attention, a quick, friendly nudge of his boot. But then they got strange. Once, Damon reached out to wipe an imaginary stain away from Alaric’s cheek with his thumb. Another time, he left his hand on Alaric’s knee so long Alaric was forced to turn sideways just to shake him off.

He knows Damon’s screwing with him. It’s a game. Damon wants to see how long it will take before Alaric calls him on his bullshit, before he lets on to the fact that Damon’s got him squirming. So Alaric keeps a running tally in his head and his mouth shut rather than give Damon the satisfaction of winning. In fact, Alaric thinks it’s about time to turn the tables.

(Also, he’s maybe a little drunk.)

“You okay, buddy?” Damon asks, eyes wide and as innocent as he can manage.

Alaric turns slightly so they’re facing one another on their bar stools, their legs sliding together like puzzle pieces, and reaches out to clamp a hand on Damon’s shoulder, taking extra care to make sure his hand touches the bare skin of Damon’s collarbone. Serves him right for leaving so much skin exposed. How damn hard is it to do a couple of buttons?

“I’m great,” he says. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m awesome,” Damon says. He scoots to the edge of his seat, forcing his knee to slide up the length of the inside of Alaric’s thigh, stopping less than inch away from his crotch. Alaric swallows hard and pretends not to notice the look of satisfaction on Damon’s smug face.

This is stupid. He’s a grown man. A grown, teacher type man. He shouldn’t be playing cat and mouse games with a vampire. Especially not _this_ vampire. And especially not here with half of Mystic Falls watching them.

“What are you doing, Damon? Aren’t we a little old for this?”

Damon shrugs and flexes his leg so his knee brushes against Alaric’s crotch. Alaric’s breath hitches. He’s already hard and now Damon knows it.

“I’m pulling your pigtails,” Damon says. “You know, like when little Johnny likes little Sally he runs up to her on the playground and gives her pigtails a good _yank_ \---” he punctuates the word by rubbing is knee firmly against the rapidly growing bulge in Alaric’s pants.

Alaric’s had more than enough. He angrily shoves Damon’s leg away and slides off his stool with every intent of walking out the door, but Damon’s hand clamps down on his elbow like a vice and his face is suddenly so close Alaric can feel his cool, completely unnecessary breath on his cheek.

“I want to fuck you, Ric,” Damon whispers. “And I _know_ you want to fuck me.”

“Go to hell,” Alaric growls.

Damon laughs and wraps a hand around the back of Alaric’s neck dragging him forward until their lips are crushing against each other. Alaric knows he should pull away. He’s standing in the middle of the only restaurant in Mystic Falls with his tongue jammed down Damon Salvatore’s throat.

There’s no way this is going to stay quiet.

But he _is_ drunk and hard and Damon’s sucking at his bottom lip and _fuck_ \---

He pulls away and catches the corner of Damon’s jacket.

“Bathroom,” Alaric says through gritted teeth.

“Yes sir,” Damon replies.

Alaric pushes Damon through the door and begins checking the stalls while Damon leans against a sink watching his every move.

“I didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” Damon says conversationally. “I had a master plan and everything and then you go and pull me into a bathroom stall on the first night. Got to say, I’m a little disappointed in you, Ric. I didn’t think you were the easy type.”

Alaric turns the lock on the door and takes a deep breath before turning around. He’s lost his mind. That’s the only explanation. Damon killed him, for God’s sake. He sure as hell shouldn’t be dragging him into any bathrooms.

Damon crosses the distance between them so quickly Alaric barely has time to register the fact that he’s moved. He presses his long, lean body against Alaric’s and Alaric can feel their cocks rubbing against each other through their jeans.

Yeah, he’s doing this.

“This only happens once,” Alaric says.

Damon winks before jerking Alaric’s pants down and wrapping his hand around Alaric’s erection. Alaric bites his tongue to keep from whimpering.

“Whatever you say, Ric,” Damon mutters against Alaric’s ear.

Without warning, Alaric flips them so Damon’s back is against the wall. Damon doesn’t fight him; in fact he seems perfectly happy to be manhandled. Alaric drops to his knees and yanks Damon’s jeans down only to find Damon’s cock straining against the flimsy cotton of a lace-trimmed black thong.

Alaric arches an eyebrow at Damon who merely grins and hooks a finger in the lace band to pull them down.

“Like I said, I wasn’t expecting you to give it up tonight.”

Alaric shakes his head. There’s no way he’s not going to regret this tomorrow.


End file.
